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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/hymnsverses01bens 



Hymns & Verses 



By 
Louis F. Benson 



Philadelphia 

The Westminster Press 




TWO COPIK RECEIVED 



^ 



&° 5 



Copyright, 1897 
By Louis F. Benson 



# 



To 
C. P. B. 

Take my book, my lady. 

In your gracious hand : 
But a look, my lady. 
As you turn its pages over ; 
And a smile to tell your lover 

That you care and understand I 
Take your book, my lady ; 
May I kiss your hand ? 



Take my heart, my lady ; 
Let me keep your hand : 
From the start, my lady, 
It has always been June weather 
As we canie this way together 

In the light that filled the land. 
Keep my heart, my lady ; 
May I keep your hand ? 



Contents 



HYMNS 




Happy Town of Salem 


Page 1 1 


A Morning Hymn of Praise 


14 


At Lauds 


16 


Beyond Life's Evening Star 


18 


The Law of God 


20 


The Lord of Glory 


22 


A Morning Hymn 


24 


A Communion Hymn 


26 


A Hymn of Faith 


28 


In His Presence 


30 


Christ and His Church 


32 


Before the Cross 


34 


A College Hymn 


36 


" It is Finished !" 


38 


The Summons of the Sea 


40 


When We Came Back to Love 


42 


At the Installation of a Pastor 


44 


At the Opening of Service 


46 


Offertory 


48 


At the Close of Service 

5 


49 



Contents 
HYMNS FROM THE LATIN 

O LUCE QUI MORTALIBUS Page 53 

O Christe, qui noster poli 56 

Crux ave benedicta ! 58 

Nobis, Olympo redditus 60 

Ter sancte, ter potens Deus 62 

Nil laudibus nostris eges 64 

O Pater sancte mitis atque pie 66 

Deus, Pater ingenite 68 

Salvator mundi, Domine 70 

VERSES 

The Bells of Christ Church 75 

Little Foot on the Fender jj 

The Last Hill 78 

On Lake George 81 

My Father's House 82 
"And There Shall Be No Night There" 84 

An Auction 86 

An Afternoon in November 88 

The Praise of Penn 90 

Memory 93 

Familiar Music 94 

6 



Contents 

The Old Loves and the New Page 96 

A Nooning 98 

To-Morrow 99 

The Temple of the New Jerusalem 100 

SONNETS 

Bryant 107 

A Dedication 108 

Loneliness 109 

The Unchangeable no 
Cedars by Moonlight v III 

Of Them that Sleep 112 



The March of Braddock 115 



Hymns 



HAPPY TOWN OF SALEM 

11 Urbs beat a Ierusalem 
Dicta pads vis'io." 

I 

HAPPY town of Salem, 
Set on Zion's hill ! 
Happy hearts of pilgrims, 

Could they see it still ! 
He that follows Jesus, 

He that dares the right, 
Sees the lights of Salem 
Gleam across the night. 

ii 

Happy town of Salem, 

With the jasper wall ! 
In its many mansions 

There is room for all. 
" Come to Me," says Jesus, 

** I will give you rest ;" 
And the town of Salem 

Gathers all the blest. 

2 II 



Happy Town of Salem 
in 

Happy town of Salem ! 

Happy little feet 
Of the children playing 

In the golden street ! 
" Let them come," says Jesus, 

" And forbid them not ;" 
But the proud in Salem 

Have no part nor lot. 

IV 

Happy town of Salem, 

With its open gates ! 
Happy are the pilgrims 

Whom a welcome waits ! 
In the Name of Jesus 

They an entrance claim, 
And the guards of Salem 

Answer, " In His Name." 

v 

Happy town of Salem, 
Vision true of peace, 

Seen above earth's strivings, 
Steadfast when they cease ! 

12 



Happy Town of Salem 

" Take thy cross," says Jesus ; 

And the narrow way 
Brings the feet to Salem 

At the break of day. 



*3 



A MORNING HYMN OF PRAISE 



THE sun is on the land and sea, 
The day begun ; 
Our morning hymn begins with Thee, 

Blest Three-in-One : 
Our praise shall rise continuously 
Till day is done. 

ii 

Thy love was ever in our view, 

Like stars, by night ; 
Thy gifts are every morning new, 

O God of light ; 
Thy mercy, like the heavens' blue, 

Fills all our sight. 

in 

We do not know what grief or care 
The day may bring : 



A Morning Hymn of Praise 

The heart shall find some gladness there 

That loves its King ; 
The life that serves Thee everywhere 

Can always sing. 

IV 

All glory to the Father be, 

With Christ the Son, 
And, Holy Spirit, unto Thee, 

Forever One ; 
All glory to the Trinity 

While ages run. 



*5 



AT LAUDS 



OUR King's own child, the morning, 
Uplifts its golden head ; 
The gems its crown adorning 
Are pearls and rubies red : 
And fleecy stuffs in cloudland made 
Are on its shoulders lightly laid. 

ii 

Our King's best gift, the morning, 

Lies lavish o'er the land, 
But shrinks within the scorning 
Of an unwilling hand. 
Lord, make us wise the best to choose, 
And to Thy praise Thy gifts to use. 



in 

The royal lights of morning, 
How quickly paled and gray ! 
16 



At Lauds 

And falls, with scarce a warning, 
The light of common day : 
Perchance the common day may be 
The golden opportunity. 

IV 

To God, the light's Creator, 

To Christ, the Light of Light, 
To God, Illuminator, 

Be praise from dawn to night. 
To God, enthroned above the skies, 
Our morning song shall ever rise. 



17 



BEYOND LIFE'S EVENING STAR 



GOOD Shepherd! Theirs, who heard Thy 
call; 
Content to walk with Thee, 
While sunlight stays, when shadows fall, 
And then — we could not see — 
Beyond life's evening star, 

Into the paling west, 
Where they who followed far 
Have ended now their quest. 

ii 

Good Shepherd ! Ours, with feet less bold 

To choose the way they took ; 
Half longing for that distant fold, 
And half afraid to look 

Beyond life's evening star, 

Beyond the things that seem, 
Nor shade nor sunlight are, — 
The twilight and the dream ! 
18 



Beyond Life's Evening Star 
in 

Good Shepherd ! When we leave Thy side 

In doubtful dreams to stray, 
Our wayward eyes refuse their Guide, 
Who only knows the way 

Beyond life's evening star 

And through the paling west, 
Where they who follow far 
Are with Thee still in rest. 



19 



THE LAW OF GOD 



THY laws, O God, forever steadfast stand 
Till all shall be fulfilled ; 
The sceptre is not fallen from Thy hand, 
Nor Sinai's trumpet stilled. 

ii 

O Thou whose voice proclaims Thy changeless will, 

Imperial as Thy grace, 
Who shall ascend unto Thy holy hill, 

And stand before Thy face ? 

in 

No strength of soul can that clear height attain, 

Nor pride for sin atone ; 
And sacrifice uplifts its hands in vain 

To plead at Mercy's throne. 

20 



The Law of God 

IV 

But he whose hands, O Christ, are brotherly, 

And, like Thine own, are just ; 
Whose feet through lowly ways have walked with 
Thee 

In humble, child-like trust ; 



He shall ascend unto Thy holy hill, 

And dwell with Thee above ; 
For, though Thy statutes are imperious still, 

Thy law, O God, is love. 



21 



THE LORD OF GLORY 



A GLORY lit the wintry sky 
Before the break of day, 
And in a little house near by 
The Lord of Glory lay : 

Angels of peace the tidings bring, 
Angels of Jesus sing. 

ii 

Our common ways with anxious feet 

The Lord of Glory trod, 
But met not one in lane or street 
That knew the Son of God : 

Angels of peace their greetings bring, 
Angels that may not sing. 

in 

w I come to bring the weary rest," 
The Lord of Glory said, 

22 



The Lord of Glory 

Yet found no place to east or west 
Where He might lay His head : 

Angels of peace above Him still, 
Angels await His will. 

IV 

And when they led Him forth to die, 

Around His cross of shame 
The men He came to save stood by 
And mocked their Saviour's Name : 

Angels of peace their stations keep, 
Angels of sorrow weep. 



O Son of Man whom angels know ! 

O heart of man, how cold, 
How dull to see, to praise how slow, 
Now as in days of old ! 

Angels of peace their hymns upraise, 
Angels of glory praise. 



23 



A MORNING HYMN 



WHEN I awake from slumber 
To greet the golden day, 
Then teach me, Lord, to number 
Its hours in wisdom's way. 

ii 

When clouds at dawn are gleaming, 
Lift up mine answering eyes 

To where Thy light is streaming 
On faith's high enterprise. 

in 

Whither I hear Thee calling, 
Lord, give me grace to run ; 

Keep Thou my feet from falling 
Until Thy will is done. 
24 



A Morning Hymn 



IV 



Whene'er the heart grows weary, 
And every goal seems far, 

Reveal Thyself as near me 
As life and duty are. 



And when the light is fading, 
If dreams have not come true, 

Yet may Thy peace pervading 
Be breathed the twilight through, 

VI 

When day at last is ended, 
And shadows are grown deep, 

By Thy kind arms defended, 
Lord, lay me down to sleep. 



2 5 



A COMMUNION HYMN 



LO ! Thou art with us, Lord, 
Now, always, to the end. 
Why stand we gazing heavenward 
To find Thee, nearest Friend ? 

ii 

Lo ! Thou art with us, Lord ; 

Of every heart the Guest, 
The Bond which binds in sweet accord 

All hearts that in Thee rest. 



hi 

Lo ! Thou art with us, Lord ; 

Of Thine own House the Head, 
Thou sittest at the holy board 

To bless the broken bread. 
26 



A Communion Hymn 



IV 



Lo ! Thou art with us, Lord, 
Who still Thyself dost give ; 

Thy life the cup which is outpoured, 
The bread by which we live. 



Lo ! Thou art with us, Lord, 
Whom Thou hast never failed ; 

Here where Thy presence is adored, 
Thy face but thinly veiled. 



27 



A HYMN OF FAITH 



WE would not climb with earth-bound feet 
High airy ways untrod, 
Where angels, hither coming, meet 

Those going back to God : 
We would not strain our wearied eyes 

To see the paths they took, 
Nor blind them in the light that lies 
Where angels fear to look. 

ii 

We have not sought with human span 

To measure ways like Thine, 
Nor dreamed, O God, that mortal man 

Could think Thy thoughts Divine : 
In vain our futile patience waits 

Till knowledge turns the key 
That opens wide the sealed gates 

Of Thine infinity. 

28 



A Hymn of Faith 
in 

And yet, as high as faith may go, 

As far as knowledge see, 
The heart would seek its Lord to know, 

The mind discover Thee : 
Would know Thee, unto truth drawn nigh 

By loving what is true ; 
Would see Thee, as the climber's eye 

Anticipates the view. 

IV 

We rest upon Thy fatherhood, 

While, round and overhead, 
Thy being's boundless amplitude 

Like seas and sky is spread. 
Oh, better than in vain to try 

To plumb th' unsounded sea, 
Or win the secrets of the sky, 

It is to rest in Thee. 



29 



IN HIS PRESENCE 



ALL life is in Thy presence, Lord ; 
Our deeds are in Thy sight; 
Thine eyes behold, Thy hands record 
Our very thoughts by night. 

ii 

All life is in Thy presence, Lord ; 

And, hallowed by Thy smile, 
Its humblest tasks great hopes afford, 

Its failures seem worth while. 

hi 

All life is in Thy presence, Lord ; 

And most that life is blest 
Which finds Thy favor its reward, 

And Thy protection rest. 
30 



In His Presence 



IV 



All life is in Thy presence, Lord ; 

Content to dwell with Thee 
When by Thy fellowship restored 

To peace and purity. 



All life is in Thy presence, Lord ; 

By all things, great and small, 
Be Thy blest Name Triune adored, 

Who art the All-in-all. 



3i 



CHRIST AND HIS CHURCH 



THINE eyes sought out Thine own, 
Thy voice said, " Follow Me ;" 
To simple hearts of Galilee 
Thy light and love were shown. 
O Jesus, we are Thine, 

Thou callest us to-day ; 
Thy light and love still steadfast shine 
To guide Thy Church's way. 

ii 

Thine eyes among Thy flock 
For living faith made search ; 
Thy voice exulting said, " My Church 
I build upon this rock." 

O Jesus, guard it well, 

Lest faith and courage fail ; 
Thou wilt not let the gates of hell 
Against Thy Church prevail. 
32 



Christ and His Church 
in 

Thine eyes saw, full in view, 
Thy cross stand just ahead ; 
Thy voice to Thine eleven said, 
" My peace I leave with you." 
O Jesus, at Thy side 

All strife and discord cease ; 
And where her Lord was crucified 
Thy Church shall find her peace. 

IV 

Thine eyes far glories fill, 
Thy love does not forget ; 
Thy voice, where doubting hearts were met, 
Said, " I am with you still." 
O Jesus, only Thou, 

Uplifted from the dead 
And throned in highest Heaven now, 
Shalt be Thy Church's Head. 



33 



BEFORE THE CROSS 



HEAVENLY love that was so high, 
So lowly now for love of me ! 
The Son of God hath stooped to die 
The death of shame upon the tree. 
For me the Lord that loved me died ; 
The Son of God is crucified. 



ii 

The Son of God, the Lord of Life ; 

That royal head uncrowned for me ! 
The Prince of Peace amid the strife ; 

His lifted cross my victory ! 
Here weep, my sin ; here kneel, my pride ; 
The Son of God is crucified. 

in 

Is crucified ! Those hands impaled 
The sins of other hands to bear ; 
34 



Before the Cross 

Those feet, for feet that wandered, nailed ; 

For my transgressions wounded there. 
For me the Lord that loved me died ; 
The Son of God is crucified. 

IV 

Before His cross the heart is hushed, 

The eyes that see their Lord grow dim ; 

And all the works of pride lie crushed 
Beneath the weight it laid on Him. 

No thought, no prayer, no plea, beside 

" The Son of God is crucified. " 



35 



A COLLEGE HYMN 



CHRIST, who didst our tasks fulfil, 
Didst share the hopes of youth, 
Our Teacher and our Brother still, 
Now lead us into truth. 



ii 

The call is Thine : be Thou the Way, 
And Thine the hearts that guide ; 

Let wisdom broaden with the day, 
Let human faith abide. 

in 

Who learns of Thee the truth shall find, 
Who follows, wins the goal ; 

With reverence crown the earnest mind, 
And speak within the soul. 
36 



A College Hymn 



IV 



Waken the purpose high which strives, 

And, falling, stands again ; 
Confirm the will of eager lives 

To quit themselves like men : 



Thy life the bond of fellowship, 
Thy love the law that rules, 

Thy Name, proclaimed by every lip, 
The Master of our schools. 



37 



"IT IS FINISHED!" 



"TT is finished !" Jesus cries, 

A As upon the cross He dies. 
" It is finished !" says the Son, 
For the Father's will is done. 



ii 

" It is finished !" Long ago 
Prophets saw Messiah's woe : 
Now their visions are fulfilled, 
And the Sufferer's heart is stilled, 



in 

" It is finished !" — every throe 
Human strength may undergo, 
From the infant's cry for breath 
To the bitter sting of death. 
38 



" It is Finished ! ! 



IV 



" It is finished !" — the long way- 
Through the gloom to break of day ; 
And the path of sacrifice 
Leads at last to Paradise. 



" It is finished !" Jesus, rest 
With the weary and oppressed, 
Till the life Thou hast laid down 
Shall arise to take its crown. 



VI 

" It is finished !" Christ, in Thee 
Faith shall claim the victory, 
By the deeds that Thou hast done 
In the battle Thou hast won. 



39 



THE SUMMONS OF THE SEA 



WHY linger yet upon the sand ? 
Why hug the sheltered lee ? 
O heart of mine, wouldst thou withstand 
The summons of the sea ? 



ii 

What wider ways that God has planned 

Bode ill, my life, to thee, 
If in the hollow of His hand 

He holds the unknown sea ? 



hi 

Why dream of breakers on the shore, 
Or reefs thou canst not see ? 

O life of mine, what needst thou more, 
If Christ thy Pilot be ? 

40 



The Summons of the Sea 

IV 

What woe to thee in wind or tide ? 

My heart, why frightened be 
Aboard life's sinking ship, beside 

The One who walks the sea ? 



4i 



WHEN WE CAME BACK TO 

LOVE 



OUR wilful hearts have gone astray ; 
Our feet have wandered far away ; 
O God, remember not the day 

When we forsook Thy love. 

ii 

O patient Eyes that saw us go ! 

O careless hearts to grieve Him so ! 

O feet so swift to leave, so slow 

When we came back to Love ! 



in 

We followed far the wayward will ; 
Our eyes turned home from every hill ; 
They found Thee waiting, watching still 
When we came back to Love. 
42 



When We Came Back to Love 



IV 



We found no home to east or west ; 
We bore no peace within the breast, 
Until once more we were at rest 

When we came back to Love, 



" Our Father !" Hallowed be the Name 
That all within Thy house proclaim ; 
Their prayer and ours at last the same, — 
Thy will be done, O Love. 



43 



AT THE INSTALLATION OF 
A PASTOR 



RISEN Christ, who from Thy throne 
Dost rule Thy Church, and hear Thine own, 
Now seal by Thine almighty power 
The covenants of this sacred hour. 



ii 

Weave Thou Thy life through these new ties 
The light of love that round Thee lies 
Circle the shepherd and the sheep, 
And all our lives in safety keep. 



in 

The shepherd's Shepherd only Thou 
Canst be : O Christ, walk with him now ; 
While our weak hands reach up to Thine, 
To strengthen his with might Divine. 

44 



At the Installation of a Pastor 



IV 



Thou in whose love Thy Church is blest, 
Thy Name alone be here confessed, 
By holy lives be glorified, 
While here Thy peace shall still abide. 



45 



AT THE OPENING OF 
SERVICE 



FATHER, once more within Thy Holy Place 
We bring the sins which, kneeling, we confess ; 
Not worthy yet to look upon Thy face, 

Yet loath to rise until Thy hand doth bless. 



ii 

Father, once more within Thy House of Hope 
We turn from sin to find a glad release : 

In Thy forgiveness there is strength to cope 
With all that robs the spirit of Thy peace. 

in 

Father, once more within Thy House of Prayer 
We kneel before Thee at the open way ; 

And, leaving both our hopes and burdens there, 
We wait till Thou shalt teach us how to pray. 

46 



At the Opening of Service 

IV 

Father, once more within Thy House of Praise 
We bring our gifts to Thee from whom they 
came ; 

We lift our hearts and our hosannas raise 

To welcome Him who cometh in Thy Name. 



47 



OFFERTORY 



WE can but give Thee what is Thine, 
For we have naught beside : 
Accept from us, O Love Divine, 
The gifts Thou dost provide. 



ii 

To whom, O Saviour, but to Thee, 

Must cloistered pity go 
To find the wells of charity, 

Since Thou hast loved us so ? 



in 

O Holy Spirit, Thou best Gift 
Sent down from Heaven above, 

May Thy sweet inspirations lift 
Our lives to deeds of love. 



48 



AT THE CLOSE OF SERVICE 







HOLY One, 

Our prayers are done, 
And with Thy blessing may our worship cease, 
To all that waits 
Beyond the shelter of Thy gates 
Now lettest Thou Thy servants go in peace. 



ii 

O Glorious One, 
Our songs are done ; 
The world is calling and its cares increase. 
With lips that praise 
And hearts that softly sing always, 
Now lettest Thou Thy servants go in peace, 

49 



At the Close of Service 
in 

O Changeless One, 

When life is done 
Breathe through the dark Thy pardon and release, 

Thou wilt forget, 
But lest some shame may linger yet, 
Now lettest Thou Thy servants go in peace. 



5° 



Hymns from the Latin 



5* 



© luce qui mortaltbus 
Xates inaccessa, Beus! 
Ipraesente quo eanctt tremunt 
Slutmntque vultus angelL 

(By Charles Coffin ; born 1676, died IJ4Q. In the Paris 
Breviary of iyj6 it is the hymn appointed for Vespers on the 
Sundays from Trinity to Advent.) 







GOD Most High, 
By mortal eye 
Unseen, Thou hidest in the light, 
Upon whose brink 
E'en angels shrink, 
And veil their faces from the sight. 

11 

'Tis darkness here, 

And, far or near, 
Through deepest shadow lies the way 

Unto the gate, — 

And there to wait 
The rising of eternal day. 
53 



O luce qui mortalibus 
in 

The flash of dawn 

So quickly gone, 
The brightest blaze of noontide's ray, 

Like twilight seem 

Beside the gleam 
And glory of that coming day. 



IV 

O golden day, 

So far away, 
Why dost thou linger, yet how long? 

From flesh set free 

The soul must be 
Ere it can join thy morning song. 



Its chains put by, 

How swift to fly, 
O God, to look upon Thy face ! 

Of love to Thee 

Its song shall be, 
Its lasting joy to praise Thy grace. 
54 



O luce qui mortalibus 



VI 



Blest Trinity, 
May Thy gifts be 

Our gracious helpers by the way, 
Till our brief night 
Shall catch the light 

That heralds the eternal day. 



55 



© Cbrt6te t QiU noeter poll 
©raecursor intrae reatam, 
<auos btc jacentes resptcts, 
Sutsum voca, eurgum rape, 

[A hymn first appearing in the Cluniac Breviary of 1686. ) 



OUR Herald-Christ at Heaven's gate, 
Our King within its walls, 
Thine eye yet sees us, lingering late ; 
Thy voice, once more it calls. 

11 
Make us to seek with love more bold 

Those joys that purer seem, 
Which earthly eyes may not behold, 

Nor faith's, except in dream. 

in 

Where hearts that strove yet feared to fall, 
And hands that toiled, have rest ; 

Where God Himself is All-in-all, 
And all His own are blest. 
56 



O Christe, qui noster poli 



IV 



And lest we lose that glory's crown, 
And lest we miss that prize, 

O Christ, Thy Spirit's grace send down 
To give us strength to rise. 



All praise to Thee, our Herald-King, 
With Him at whose right hand 

Thou art, and Him whose power can bring 
Thy children to that land. 



57 



Crux av>e benefctcta! 
IPer te mors eat fcevtcta, 
Hn te Depenfcit 2>eus t 
IRei et Salvatot meus* 

{A passion hymn of unknown authorship.} 
I 

HAIL, blessed cross ! Those arms of thine 
Have drawn from death its sting, 
For they have borne the Lord Divine, 
My Saviour and my King. 

ii 

Of all earth's trees the queenliest, 

Of all earth's ills the cure, 
Of burdened hearts thou art the rest, 

Of griefs, the solace sure. 

in 

O holiest wood ! the pledge and sign 

Of our new life thou art ; 
And on thee grows the fruit Divine 

That feeds the human heart. 

58 



Crux ave benedicta ! 

IV 

When those that love and those that hate 
Thy cross shall summoned be, 

O Jesus, for whose call they wait, 
I pray, remember me. 



59 



Klobie, ©l^mpo re&Dttua, 
©ui, Cbri6te t seDea praeparas, 
IRos exules in patrtam 
Gtabas amotte nexibus. 

{An Ascension Hymn, by Jean-Baptiste de Santeuil ; born 
l6jO, died l6gf. I have taken the text from the second 
edition of his Hymni Sacri et Novi, Paris, 1698, in prefer- 
ence to that of the Paris Breviary, tvhich omits the second 
verse and adds a somewhat inconsequent doxology.) 



RETURNED to Heaven and reigning there, 
Our place, O Christ, Thou dost prepare : 
Now gently draw with cords of love 

Thine exiles to their home above, 

♦ 

11 

Where dwell the blest, from cares how free, 
Secure in their felicity ; 
And there at life's full river's brink 
Deep draughts of bliss immortal drink. 
60 



Nobis, Olympo redditus 



in 



With all good gifts abounding, Lord, 
Thou shalt be there our great Reward 
Beside those pleasures which remain, 
How brief this passing day of pain ! 



IV 



And when the veil is drawn apart, 
And we behold Thee as Thou art, 
Our love shall answer Thine always, 
Our lips shall never cease Thy praise, 



Till then be mindful of Thine own, 
And, like a dove from far heights flown, 
The Spirit of adoption send 
To pledge our welcome at the end. 



61 



Zcx sancte, ter potent 2>eu$, 
Uncomprebensa ttrinitas : 
© lui perennte ! ptopriis 
© ter beata sauDtte! 

(By Claude de Santeuil ; born 1628, died 1684. T^e hymn is 
assigned to Trinity Sunday in the Paris Breviary.) 



THRICE-HOLY God, of threefold might, 
The Trinity confessed, 
Thrice-glorious with eternal light, 
With joys Divine thrice-blest ! 

11 
O Unity forever true, 

O Truth forever one, 
Eternal Love forever new, 

Whose gifts are never done ! 

in 
Thick clouds of darkness like a wall 

Conceal Thy splendor's blaze, 
Where angels on their faces fall, 
Nor, trembling, dare to gaze. 
62 



Ter sancte, ter potens Deus 



IV 



Thy flock sounds forth Thy threefold Name 

In which it is baptized ; 
Faith sights the Heaven from which it came, 

And love would grasp the prize. 



Lord, give us grace to do Thy will ; 

O Christ, instruct the heart ; 
Thou Holy Spirit, help us still 

To choose the better part. 



VI 

Let God the Father be adored, 

With his coequal Son, 
And with the Holy Ghost, one Lord, 

Thrice-royal, ever One. 



63 



flltl laufctbus noatrte eges, 
SeD Olios amas, ©ater ; 
/llbultaque coelestem prece 
Vie provocatt grattanu 

By Charles Coffin ; born 1676, died If4g. Like most of his 
hymns , this one jirst appeared in the Paris Breviary of I^j6 9 
where it is appointed for Monday at Lauds.) 



OUR praises, Lord, Thou dost not need ; 
'Tis rather that Thy love 
Would have Thy children come to plead 
For blessings from above. 

11 

The secrets of Thy dark decrees 

Deep night in silence sings ; 
Thy mercy's light, in golden seas, 

The flooding sunshine brings. 

in 

Nor thought nor voice fulfil their part, 
When by such wonders thrilled ; 

Yet love that pulses through the heart 
Refuses to be stilled. 
64 



Nil laudibus nostris eges 

IV 

So let it speak our Father's praise 
To Thee, whose grace affords 

A present help in evil days, 
And hope of great rewards. 



To them our dearest wishes rise, 
Though earthly thoughts contend 

O Jesus, draw us toward the skies, 
And guide us till the end. 



65 



© IPater sancte mttis ataue pie, 
© Sesu Cbriste JFtli veneran&e, 
patacliteque Sptrttus © alme, 
2>eus aeterne* 

(A hymn of unknown authorship found in more than one manu- 
script of the eleventh century.) 



FATHER, all-holy, merciful, and tender, 
Christ, fitly worshipped in Thy royal splendor, 
Spirit most gracious, Helper and Defender, . 
God everlasting ! 

ii 

Trinity holy, Unity unbroken, 
God, of whose greatness goodness is the token, 
Joy of the angels, Balm of griefs unspoken, 
Hope all-surpassing ! 

in 

All things to serve Thee, Lord, Thou hast created ; 
All creatures' homage, Lord, on Thee has waited ; 
Our hymns we offer, to Thee dedicated : 
Hear them ascending. 
66 



O Pater sancte mitis atque pie 

IV 

Glory to Thee, O Sovereign God Almighty, 
Whose power and greatness Three-in-One unite 

Thee; 
Anthems and praises unto Thee most rightly 
Rise never ending. 



67 



2>eus t pater irtQenite, 
Et JFili unigenite, 
(Sluos XTrinitatie unttas 
Sancto conncctit Sptritu. 

(By Hilary of Poictiers, who died at that place A.D. 368. 
His hymns, but few of which have survived, stand among 
the beginnings of Latin Hymnody.) 



FATHER unbegotten, 
Sole-begotten Son, 
With the Holy Spirit, 
God the Three-in-One ; 

11 

Never one who seeks Thee 
Breathes a futile prayer : 

When love's face is lifted, 
Heaven's light falls there. 

in 

Hear, O God, the voices 

Paying vows to Thee ; 

To their hearts' confessions 

Ever gracious be. 

68 



Deus, Pater ingenite 

IV 

Now the dawn reminds us 
Of the thanks we owe, 

Wakens songs of praises 
As the shadows go. 

v 
Hear us, Gracious Saviour, 

Hallow this new day, 
Order all our doings, 

Lest our footsteps stray. 



69 



Salvator munDi, Domtne, 
Qui nos salvaeti bo&fe, 
Hn bac nocte nos protege, 
3Et salva omni tempore* 

{A hymn of unknown authorship which Mone thinks of the sixth 
or seventh century. It is found in several hymnaries and 
breviaries , ivhere it seems to have no fixed place, but is 
assigned to varying seasons of the Church year.} 



OTHOU, the Saviour of the world, 
Who kept us safe to-day, 
Through all this night protect us still, 
And save us, Lord, alway. 



ii 

Reveal Thy gracious presence now, 
And spare us while we pray ; 

Lift off the burden of our sins, 
And turn our night to day. 

70 



Salvator mundi, Domine 
in 

May sleep fall lightly on the soul, 
No sudden foe surprise, 

Nor any stain defile the flesh 
While it unguarded lies. 

IV 

To Thee, Renewer of our lives, 
Our earnest prayer we make, 

That we serene and pure in heart 
From out of sleep may wake. 



To God the Father glory be 

And to His only Son, 
With God the Holy Comforter, 

Forever Three-in-One. 



7i 



[ The hymns at pages 18 and 64 are 
reprinted here by kind permission of the 
Editor of The Sunday School Times, 
iv herein they first appear ed.~\ 

72 



Verses 



73 



THE BELLS OF CHRIST 
CHURCH 

OVER the roofs that rise between 
I hear the bells of Christ Church chiming ; 
As though upon bright hills unseen 
Glad angels sang where they were climbing, 

Or some stray minstrel, passing by, 
Carolled his airy fancies, rhyming, 

That laughed together in the sky, 
And set the bells of Christ Church chiming. 

Above the clamor of the town 
I hear the bells of Christ Church ringing ; 

As though some herald, flying down, 
His messages of peace were bringing, 

And all the voices of the air 
In sweet companionship were singing 

The call to worship and to prayer 
In Christ Church, where the bells are ringing. 
6 75 



The Bells of Christ Church 

Out of the darkness and the rain 
I hear the bells of Christ Church tolling ; 

As though long rhythmic waves of pain 
Upon a cloudland shore were rolling, 

Where some sad spirit, left alone, 
In need of friendship and consoling, 

Counted his sorrows one by one. 
I hear the bells of Christ Church tolling. 

1882. 



76 



LITTLE FOOT ON THE 
FENDER 

,/r I A IS a little song that I send her; 

JL 'Tis a little maid whom I see ; 
'Tis a little foot on the fender, 

And a prayer, — will it wait for me ? 

May the angels of God attend her, 
Who are nearer than I can be ; 

And thou, little foot on the fender, 

Wilt thou walk the long path with me ? 



77 



THE LAST HILL 

(A painting by James Hamilton.) 

UP from low valleys where the slow brooks wind 
Between the meadow lands, with wavering 
wills 
That hear the sea, yet love the haunts behind, 
Starts the long path of life across the hills. 

Now lies the glow of morning on the path, 
With borders of wild blossom laid along ; 

Its first found upland greeted with a laugh, 
Its easy summits mounted with a song. 

With lavish life the fields and woods are green, 
'Neath radiant skies that arch the perfect days ; 

And many are the friends we walk between, 
Before we reach the parting of the ways, 

Where every path is waiting for its own, 
Inviting him to come, he sees not where, 

Save only when the boughs, asunder blown, 
Reveal far summits in the distant air. 

78 



The Last Hill 

And now, with all his comrades laid at rest 
In backward valleys, where they linger still, 

This lonely pilgrim at the utmost west 

Has reached the sloping crown of life's last hill. 

He wades among the drifted autumn leaves 

With his worn staff, and peers with vacant sight 

Into the dim beyond, where sunset weaves 
A faded border on the edge of night, 

Which on the caps of cloud-hills lingers last, — 
The glow of hope that vanishes in pain 

Off airy summits rising from the past, 

Far gleaming, so long toiled for, unattained. 

Do joys remembered seem to fall again, 

From off long-withered seasons, at the sight 

Of frosted foliage dropping like the rain 

From swaying boughs left naked to the night ? 

And does he hear again the fall of feet 

That somewhere, sometime, in the long ago, 
Kept pace with his, when carelessly and fleet 

They trod the glad hills, flushed with eastern 
glow ? 

79 



The Last Hill 

And do their voices, over hills between, 

Sound faintly still, like cries of passing flocks, 

Or as through trees, from cataracts unseen, 
Come sounds of falling waters on the rocks ? 

They do not rise from out the valley there 

To greet him now ; they come not with the 
breeze, 

Out of the dusk, that tosses his white hair, 
And shivers in the branches of bare trees. 

Louder the night-wind wails about the hill ; 

Deeper the shadows gather over him ; 
Forgetful happily, and dreaming still, 

He disappears into the unknown dim 

By paths our human foresight may not trace, 
Across th' untrodden valley of the west, 

And over brightening hills, to that fair place 
Where lies, beyond the pilgrimage, our rest. 

1878. 



80 



ON LAKE GEORGE 

ON the dreamy waters drifting, 
Hills around me and before, 
While the moon the veil is lifting 
From the islands and the shore. 

Dreaming, drifting ; drifting, dreaming ; 

Sipping draughts of airy lore 
From the fount of fancy streaming 

On the islands and the shore. 

Dreams — they rise with sweet persistence 
From the dim and mists of yore, 

Rise and pass into the distance 
With the islands and the shore. 

Oh, to drift and dream forever ! 

Oh, to drift for evermore 
On a tide of dreams that never 

Laps an island or a shore ! 

1879. 



81 



MY FATHER'S HOUSE 



LIKE songs resung, yet seeming not the same, 
I hear soft notes of laughter ; and a voice, 
Clearer than other voices, calls my name 
From out the silence of my father's house. 

Like cloudy highlands lifted from the night, 
Yet golden in the lingering afterglow, 

Arise remembered seasons, and a light 

That lifts the shadows in my father's house. 

Intangible, yet beautiful, they seem, 

Like glimpses of things longed for from afar ; 

And 1, as one that waketh from a dream 

That framed the fabric of my father's house. 

When still I join with other hands mine own, 
They thrill and falter with unspoken thought, 

So strangely smaller has the circle grown, 
So strangely empty is my father's house. 

82 



My Father's House 

Oh, vacant chamber and untrodden hall, 
And things familiar that have lost their use ! 

Oh, days of meeting and of festival 

That were so merry in my father's house ! 

I may not linger, and I turn away ; 

Hush, now, ye solemn voices of the night ! 
Lo ! glimmers from the east another day 

Against the portals of my Father's House. 

1883. 



83 



"AND THERE SHALL BE NO 
NIGHT THERE" 

THERE'S a red burst of dawn, and a white light 
of noon, 
[And the hues of the rainbow are seven ;] 
But the best thing of all, when the dark comes so 
soon, 
Is to know that it's ne'er night in Heaven. 

There's a break in the clouds, and a sheen on the 
rain, 

[And the hues of the rainbow are seven ;] 
But the sweetest of lights that can brighten our pain 

Is to know that it's ne'er night in Heaven. 

There's a calm of the heart through the long after- 
noon, 
[And the gifts of the Spirit are seven,] 
When there floats on the dusk, like a leaf-whispered 
tune, 
" Did you know that it's ne'er night in Heaven ?" 

84 



"And There Shall Be No Night There" 

There's a gleam through the night of a throne set 
afar, 

[And the hues of its rainbow are seven ;] 
But it stands not so sure as God's promises are, 

Who has said, " There is no night in Heaven." 



«5 



AN AUCTION 



ONE little maid in a cradle, 
Two little maids in a bed ; 
Three little heads laid together, 
Two little prayers softly said. 
" Just a last kiss," comes from Sister, 
And a " Me, too," from the bed ; 
Never a sound from the cradle, 
One little prayer still unsaid. 

One little maid and a cradle, 

Two little maids and a bed ; 
Three little maids altogether, 

Offered at so much per head. 
What will you give me for Sister ? 

What for Me Too on the bed ? 
What am I bid for the baby ? 

Going, at so much per head. 
86 



An Auction 

What ! for the babe, or the cradle ? 

What ! But you mean for the bed ? 
What ! ' Will I start with the baby V 

Sir, did I catch what you said ? 
Gentlemen all, name your figures 

Either for cradle or bed ; 
But — did I mention a limit 

Placed on each dear little head ? 



87 



AN AFTERNOON IN 
NOVEMBER 

SINCE Nellie strayed through autumn woods, 
Where would you have her lover ? 
She sat upon a fallen tree, 
And I bent down above her. 

It seemed a sunny afternoon, 

Although it was November ; 
But if 'twas warm or if 'twas cold, 

I really can't remember. 

Somehow her little heart and mine 

Seemed just so close together, 
Perhaps there was no room between 

For any sort of weather. 

I trembled at her coy dismay 

As I leaned down above her, 
Until I looked in her brown eyes, 

And then I said I loved her. 
88 



An Afternoon in November 

So sweetly then the dearest smile 
Played softly through her blushes, 

So precious the low words between 
Her shy and dreamy hushes, — 

That when I told my story through, 
How long I'd been her lover, 

I took her little hand in mine, 
And straightway told it over. 

I must not write what Nellie said : — 
Old book, you just remember 

That, if the crops are good, there'll be 
A wedding in November. 



89 



THE PRAISE OF PENN 

1882 

{The two hundredth anniversary of his landing.) 

NOT with the trumpet blast of martial song, 
The noisy minstrelsy 
And plaudits that to conquerors belong, 

The praise of Penn shall be ; 
But simple words from hearts that love the right 

Shall greet the man of peace, 
Whose name, enduring yet, shall glow more bright 
When sounds of war shall cease. 

The woods unfurled to the October air 

Pennons of gold and flame, 
When, sailing up the river Delaware, 

The good ship Welcome came ; 
And all who dwelt upon its fertile banks, 

Dutch, Swedes, and Englishmen, 
Gave salutation, unto God their thanks, 

And their right hands to Penn. 
90 



The Praise of Penn 

Two hundred times upon the Delaware 

The autumn leaves, since then, 
Have drifted seaward ; and the dwellers there 

Who gave their hands to Penn 
Long since are mingled with the leaves. No more 

The Welcome sails the sea, 
Forever harbored by the sheltering shore 

Of the heart's loyalty. 

Yet now, two hundred autumns afterward, 

The woods in red and gold, 
And, stately as its founder's dream restored, 

The city he foretold, 
The broad fields stretching outward to the sea 

Along the river-shore, 
Wait at the portals of a century 

To welcome Penn once more. 

And what of thee ? O woodland commonwealth ! 

O commonwealth of Penn ! 
That art no more a woodland, but a breadth 

Of empire. Standing then, 
In woods unbroken to the northern lake, 

Thy forest trees ; so all 
Thy sons, as many, stand, who for thy sake 

Like forest trees would fall. 
7 9 1 



The Praise of Penn 

Thou, from thy reverend altitude of days, 

With hand uplifted now, 
Dost bind two woven centuries of praise 

About thy founder's brow ; 
While loyal millions, loving him and thee, 

Pledge in their hearts' red wine 
Two names, made one in holy unity 

Forever — his and thine. 

Not with the trumpet blast of martial song, 

The noisy minstrelsy 
And plaudits that to conquerors belong, 

The praise of Penn shall be ; 
But rather in our watchfulness for thee, 

O queenly State ! our prayer 
That civil peace and the soul's liberty 

May dwell immortal there. 



92 



MEMORY 

A HILL that fronts a headland to the sea 
Booming beneath and stretching endlessly ; 
An edge of land 
Where bushes wind-swept grow, 
And stunted trees that budded stand, 

Yet hesitate to blow ; 
And from the hill, shadowed and black, 

The herald of the dawn, 
Not yet announced, looks back, 
His trumpet still withdrawn, 
As though he had forgotten to forget, 
Or something to the dawn were lacking yet. 



93 



FAMILIAR MUSIC 

HEAR, through the summer night, voices of 
boatmen 
Singing the melodies they love the best, 
Launched in the passing airs, rippling, that float 
them 
Far into distance and harbors of rest. 

How all the placid night thrills into music, 

As when, in brightening woods, birds are awake ! 

Softly, from either shore, the hills refuse it 
In timid whispers that die on the lake. 

Now ye come nearer me, boatmen, yet nearer ; 

Louder the rhythmical plash of the oar : 
Rest there a little while, a lonely hearer 

Paces in silence, and unseen, the shore. 

Boatmen, ye sing to him songs of his childhood, 
Though in a tongue he cannot understand ; 

Dear as familiar flowers found in the wildwood, 
They, to a stranger, and in a strange land. 

94 



Familiar Music 

Tears overcoming me, tears of remembrance 
Mingle your music with songs heard before. 

Ah ! your companionship was but a semblance ; 
Ye have rowed past me ; I hear you no more, 

1882. 



95 



THE OLD LOVES AND THE 

NEW 

I LOVE old books of wholesome wit 
In calf-skin (why rebind them ?) ; 
For though with fun their sides have split, 

They leave a smile behind them : 
And some new books, — the Autocrat's 

(Saucy ! you must not mind them) ; 
Birrell, his dicta ; Lang, his chats ; 

( And Smiles?' The smiles behind them. 

I love old friends (some added grace 

Could scarcely have refined them) 
That say they love you to your face 

When you have wined and dined them : 
And some new friends. The old are best 

If one could only find them. 
(Don't go ! Your smiles are the bequest 

The old ones left behind them.) 
96 



The Old Loves and the New 

I love true eyes, the time o' day 

When love has undermined them 
(Just turn your face, my dear, this way) 

By smiles that lurk behind them. 
I love bright eyes — (you scamp), I'd dare 

With kisses now to blind them 
But that two imps of mischief there 

Would surely have declined them. 



97 



A NOONING 

OH, this is rest, — to lie beside 
The little woodland stream, 
To watch the silvered waters slide 
Down mossy rocks, then gently glide 
Through shadow and sunbeam. 

And like a bird that finds his mate, 

And poises melodies 
Upon the boughs, I meditate 
On love, and freely cultivate 

The comradeship of trees. 

Some other day, some otherwhere, 

I dream, as I lie here, 
Wait fields unploughed that need the share, 
From sun to sun the round of care, 

The toil, the pain, the tear. 



1878. 



98 



TO-MORROW 

AN old strain (which poets borrow) 
Sings that " Sorrow's crown of sorrow 
Is remembering happier days." 
But the blackest robe of sorrow 
Is the shadow of to-morrow 
And to-morrow and always. 



99 



THE TEMPLE OF THE NEW 
JERUSALEM 

(UPPER DARBY, PENNSYLVANIA.) 

THE Summer wears her crown 
On this the thirtieth morning of the May : 
Proudly the Sun looks down 
Upon his new-born child, a golden day. 

Here the wild grasses wave, 
And summer blossoms that elsewhere are laid 

On many a soldier's grave 
With martial ceremony and parade. 

Beside the quiet lane 
That winds among the farms on either hand, 

Meadows and fields of grain, 
The little church of Swedenborg doth stand, 

Far from the beating heart 
Of the world's business and activity ; 

From all its ways apart 
In unpretentious, quaint simplicity. 

ioo 



The Temple of the New Jerusalem 

The trees that border it 
Have mystic shadows interweaving them, 

And o'er the door is writ, 
" The Temple of the New Jerusalem. " 

Sweet as a saintly face 
The simple faith that did not hesitate, 

Nor deem it strange, to place 
Upon so small a house a name so great. 

In these bare walls, perchance, 
It saw the symbol of a temple here 

Not built by human hands, 
But vaster, holier, as when angels rear, 

Upon a living rock, 
A fabric spiritual of living stones, 

Such as a little flock 
Like this may offer of God's chosen ones. 

Closed is the door ; and I 
Tread the secluded place of graves, and muse 

On the unknown who lie 
Beneath, once wont to occupy these pews. 

IOI 



The Temple of the New Jerusalem 

This is their family home, 
Of which the church seems but the vestibule, 

And hither they are come 
Like tired children hurrying from school. 

Here is the pastor's grave, 
His faithful flock beside him gathered still : 

He powerless to save, 
And they to follow up the heavenly hill. 

Yonder I read his name, 
Who in these colonies of old King George, 

First, for his master's fame, 
Printed the mystic words of Swedenborg. 

A tiny flag I see 
Over a soldier's grave, as if in prayer 

It waved its hand to me, 
To stoop and lay these starry daisies there. 

I thought I was alone ; 
But there, beside the unmarked mound of clay, 

An aged form bends down 
To celebrate her Decoration Day. 



102 



The Temple of the New Jerusalem 

So womanhood doth bow 
At many shrines deserted but by her ; 

The last to hope, and now 
She lingers last beside the sepulchre. 

I leave her with her own ; 
And fancy I were satisfied to know 

That, when my years have flown, 
I, too, might lie in peace where wild flowers grow ; 

To wake, beyond the years, 
With these that slept, a worshipper with them 

When in the Heavens appears 
The Temple of the New Jerusalem. 

1882. 



103 



Sonnets 



io 5 



BRYANT 

1878 

OPOET, in whose song we heard the breath 
Of winds through woodlands musical with 
birds, 
And sounds of falling waters in thy words, 
Why is it, when thou liest low in death, 
The earth thou didst so love can bear to be 
Apparelled in the cheerfulness of June ? 
The arc thou sawest groweth to full-moon, 
Nor doth all nature mould one tear for thee : 

But in our hearts a still of autumn broods, 
And there, in sad and dreamy undertone, 
Thy scarce-hushed voice, remembered, lingers still 

Like sobbings of a wind through frost-shorn woods 
When from bared boughs the singing-birds have 

flown, 
And withered leaves are drifting down the hill. 



107 



A DEDICATION 

THIS simple offering that I may not send 
To whom I would, with love I consecrate, 
And, on her altar laid, I dedicate 
These verses to the memory of my friend. 
Time wrote them on my heart, and I but lend 
A voice to sing them, while beyond my sight 
He somewhere waits till time " The end" shall 

write 
Beneath my verses, and restore my friend. 

Time wrote them in the twilight that must be 
In this our lasting friendship's way-side inn, 
Since God so suddenly put out the light 

That showed the features of his face to me, 
And took His wondering boy away with Him 
Ere he had time to bid me a Good-night. 

ioth February, 1881. 



108 



LONELINESS 

I HEARD a plaintive sound among the trees, 
A breath of murmured music, and a throb 
That, if it had been human, were a sob, 
And died away in sighings on the breeze. 
Then in my heart I said, " Within this wood 
There is a sympathy : kind nature weaves 
About my grief a coronal of leaves, 
And binds it with a song of saddest mood." 

Ah, no ! It is the soul alone that grieves ; 
And never yet our sorrows wrung a sigh 
From nature, but our fancy woke to find 

We heard but rhythmic rustlings of the leaves, 
That flap and twist and bend unpityingly 
Beneath the pulseless fingers of the wind. 

1881. 



109 



THE UNCHANGEABLE 

HOW beautiful the thought to one who stands 
Encircled by a tidal-flow of change, 
Whose billows, with a murmur sad and strange, 
Break ceaselessly about him on the sands ; 
While chilly-burdened winds encompassing 
The shore, make monody of days that were, 
With prophecies of all unrest, and stir 
His soul with longing for some steadfast thing : — 

How beautiful to him the thought of God, 

Who, farther back than cycle-reach, was Love, 
And shall be when the cycles die again, 

Still Love, unchangeable : a shore so broad, 
So firm, beyond all tides, all storms above, 
A rock 'gainst which time-billows dash in vain ! 

1878. 



no 



CEDARS BY MOONLIGHT 

{An etching by Smillie.) 

A GROUP of cedars rising from a hill, 
Spectral, distinct, against the mottled sky : 
Above them, through the thin clouds sailing by, 
The moon shines timidly, against its will. 
And they are clustered close, as though a thrill 
Of fear possessed them that they were so high 
Upon the mountain-ridge, the edge so nigh, 
The vault beyond so fathomless and still : — 

I know not where. Perchance it only be 

The mind's remembrance of some halting-place, 
Wherein, beneath hope's fitful gleams, I stood ; 

Yet half afraid, because I could not see 
Its light reflected from some other face, 
Nor through the moonless shadows find the road, 

1882. 



in 



OF THEM THAT SLEEP 

OF you, our hearts' beloved, who are dead, 
I, who have stayed behind you, softly sing ; 
Sing softly, as the wind does, murmuring 
Among the trees for blossoms that are shed, 
And all the summer greenness that has fled ; 
In its own wind's way quaintly questioning 
Why all the leaves that budded in the spring 
Have fallen, and are drifting, restless, dead. 

I sing, and can ye hear me ? And do I 
Hear nothing, while I listen, but the wind 
For something seeking that it cannot find, 

And calling, vainly calling, passing by ? 

My heart cries to the distance, and says Hark ! 
As one that heard an echo through the dark. 

1882. 



112 



The March of Braddock 



113 



THE MARCH OF BRADDOCK 

*7S5 

THE wind that blew from westward, like a 
courier mounted well, 
Sped o'er the Alleghanies with the news it had to tell 
From inn to inn by every road, at every farm and forge, 
To every loyal subject of His Majesty King George 
Between Savannah River and the waters of Cham- 
plain : — 
" The lilies of the Bourbon King wave over Fort 
Du Quesne." 

It bore the news to England, like a carrier strong 

of wing, 
And whispered it in Cabinet to Cumberland and 

King. 
They summon General Braddock : " You a trusty 

soldier are ; 
Take our two Irish regiments of Halket and Dunbar 
Across the sea, and fight the French with all your 

might and main, 
And bring you back that Bourbon rag, torn down 

from Fort Du Quesne." 
"5 



The March of Braddock 

The wind that blew from eastward brought an 

English fleet to shore, 
The Norwich, the Centurion, transports and ships 

of store. 
At Yorktown and St. Mary's, too, it was a joyful 

day 
When like a flock of water-birds they sailed up 

Chesapeake Bay. 
"Hurrah for General Braddock !" and again and yet 

again, 
" God speed the British Regulars who march to 

Fort Du Quesne !" 

Toward camp at Alexandria the provincial levies 

come 
To the shrill blast of the lifers and the beating of 

the drum, — 
The hatchetmen and carpenters, the rangers and 

light-horse ; 
And underneath their uniforms, motley and quaint 

and coarse, 
Their honest hearts are panting for the glory they 

shall gain 
In the service of old Braddock and the conquest of 

Du Quesne. 

116 



The March of Braddock 

Loud laugh the Regulars to see the raw militia 

boys, 
Who gave themselves ('twas all they had) to help 

the royal cause, 
But did not wear their throbbing hearts upon their 

homespun sleeves. 
To Governor Dinwiddie, " Pray, what sort of 

troops are these ?" 
Exclaims the pompous General in the shock of his 

disdain. 
" Well, General, you may need them ere you get to 

Fort Du Quesne." 

O weary months of waiting in the half-provisioned 
camp, 

The General with the Governors around the council- 
lamp : 

He fumes and storms above them, and he shakes 
before their eyes 

Their pledges and their contracts for his waggons 
and supplies. 

He curses them, their colonies ; the Governors 
explain : 

And still the Bourbon lilies wave o'er distant Fort 
Du Quesne. 

117 



The March of Braddock 

The spring is green before his troops begin to move 
away ; 

The spring has turned to summer-time before their 
full array 

Is mustered at Fort Cumberland, and their com- 
mander's eyes 

See all made ready for the march beneath the 
burning skies. 

Hark ! There's the signal cannon in the clear air 
sounding plain ; 

" Fall in" and " Forward march" at last, and off for 
Fort Du Quesne ! 

Straight up the pathless mountain-range they push 
their devious course, 

Artillery and infantry, the waggons and light- 
horse ; 

St. Clair ahead ; the struggling line trails back of 
him four miles, 

A living thread stretched ready to be snapped by 
savage wiles ; 

The horses broken-kneed, the men are sick with 
heat and pain : 

A hundred thirty miles away as yet is Fort Du 
Quesne. 

118 



The March of Braddock 

Into Great Savage Wilderness the axemen cut their 

way- 
Through towering forests of white pine that bar 

the light of day, 
Within whose gloomy silence lives no creature that 

has breath ; 
And man to man is whispering, " They are called 

The Shades of Death." 
Hark ! Firing there ! The Indians ? 'Tis some 

horse in mercy slain. 
And with each sinking sun they gain but two miles 

toward Du Quesne. 

The cannon and the waggons, some are spiked and 

some are broke, 
And some get down the precipice with tackle and 

with rope. 
Now lash the panting horses ! and now cheer the 

fainting men ! 
The cliffs of Meadow Mountain must be climbed 

to-day : and then 
Behold the Little Meadows, for St. Clair has gained 

the plain : 
His camp is but a hundred miles away from Fort 

Du Quesne. 

119 



The March of Braddock 

Now halt till the pack-horses and the waggons 

come in slow ; 
Halt here for Major Washington (he gave out long 

ago): 
Now halt until the stragglers come with bruised, 

bleeding feet, 
And deal them out an extra share of water and 

salt meat : 
Halt for Dunbar the Tardy, — and the equinoctial 

rain 
Will fall before the British flag is planted on Du 

Quesne. 

Forward the light division ! The four hundred 

with St. Clair ; 
And where they make a forest path, Braddock will 

follow there ; 
Through streams and deep morasses, over mountain 

and through glen, 
To where man's foot has never trod, go forward, 

Englishmen ! 
The sun shall dry your bleeding feet, the showers 

cool your brain, 
As, tracked by skulking savages, you march to Fort 

Du Quesne. 

120 



The March of Braddock 

The last hard climb is over, and the last day's 

setting sun 
Glares red upon the camping-ground by wild 

Sewickley Run ; 
Between the netted foliage there its latest wavering 

gleam 
Is flashed from the fresh-burnished arms stacked 

close beside the stream, 
And every tired soldier on the ground where he 

has lain 
Is dreaming that to-morrow night he sleeps in Fort 

Du Quesne. 

Thy shores, Monongahela, see a royal sight this 

day 
When Braddock with his Regulars in their full-dress 

array, 
To bursts of martial melody from every hill 

retold, 
Thy shallows ford ; their uniforms of scarlet and 

of gold 
Within thy waves reflected till the sloping banks 

they gain, 
And rally with an English cheer that's heard at. 

Fort Du Quesne. 

121 



*€ 



The March of Braddock 

" The road is open, General : 'tis an easy path 

from here." 
" Then forward, boys, one eiFort more : now one 

more English cheer !" 
Hold ! hold !" pleads cautious Washington ; 
make sure beyond a doubt ; 
Let the Virginian foresters go beat these woods 

about." 
" You raw militia stripling, if you're afraid you 

can remain," 
Old Braddock says, and swears an oath he'll sup in 

Fort Du Quesne. 

" Forward !" the angry General shouts : quickly his 

troops reply. 
Up from the river-bank they come ; " We're almost 

there," they cry. 
Beat louder, faster, drummers ! while they march 

with eager stride 
Into the narrow forest road, hemmed in on either 

side ; 
Looking to see the fort ahead at each turn of the 

lane, 
And not an enemy in sight between them and 

Du Quesne. 

122 



The March of Braddock 

Firing upon the front ! and now the charging cheers 
of troops, 

The thrilling ** Vive le Roi !" amid blood-curdling 
Indian whoops. 

Firing along the wavering lines ! and now upon the 
rear 

Still standing firm and waiting till the enemy- 
appear ! 

Like hail the balls and arrows come ; like dead leaves 
fall the slain ; 

But not an enemy in sight between them and Du 
Quesne. 

The advance gives way, the regiments are herded 

into one; 
While to the forefront Braddock rides, his charger 

at full run : 
" Around your colours rally, men : now forward by 

platoons :" 
Waving his sword above his head, the wounded 

General swoons. 
Across his body where he lies, now kicked and 

kicked again, 
The panting herd of soldiers rush at full run from 

Du Quesne ! 
9 123 



The March of Braddock 

Fly, fly, ye British Regulars : throw down your 

arms and flv, 
And leave your fallen General on the battle-field 

to die ; 
Across the ford and through the woods to camp, 

and tell Dunbar 
That dead and dying in the road eight hundred 

soldiers are ! 
Fly, fly, ye British Regulars, with all your might 

and main ; 
The Indians chase, — fly faster than you came to 

Fort Du Quesne ! 

But of the horrors of that scene when all who 

could have flown, 
And to the Indians left the rest — the death-shriek 

and the groan, 
The savage torture limb by limb — no human voice 

could tell, 
Though it should speak with cloven tongues of fire 

from deepest hell. 
Shame ! shame to France, — the eyes that look, the 

hands that might restrain ! 
And in the setting sun blush red her lilies on Du 

Quesne. 

124 



The March of Braddock 

O night-wind from the westward, passing over 

Braddock's Field, 
Thou needst not pray the shadows there his mangled 

corpse to shield. 
By brave Virginia soldiers, and on strong Virginia 

arms, 
He's borne beyond the scalpers' reach and fear of 

their alarms ; 
The death- sweat on his forehead, while he whispers, 

in his pain, 
To lay him in a nameless grave not far from Fort 

Du Quesne. 

O night-wind, speed from inn to inn, to every farm 

and forge, 
To every anxious subject of His Majesty King 

George : 
Awaken Philadelphia with thy blasts untimely 

cold, 
And from the steeple of Christ Church let 

muffled bells be tolled ; 
While yet the voice that trembles through the 

names of brave men slain 
Thanks Heaven that saved Washington from death 

at Fort Du Quesne. 

125 



The March of Braddock 

O wind that blows from westward, waft the ship 
in which he came 

Who sends back nothing to his King except a 
tarnished name : 

Tell out thy tale at council-board : the Duke him- 
self shall say, 

" Had Washington commanded, there were better 
news to-day." 

Blow, blow, ye winds from westward, till your 
warnings shall make plain 

The lesson God taught England by defeat at Fort 
Du Quesne. 

1880. 



126 













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